


No Escape from Each Other

by twelveinone



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Smut, F/M, Smut, The vault, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveinone/pseuds/twelveinone
Summary: Missy's time in the vault has barely begun. Her and the Doctor are struggling to see eye to eye and both feel the weight of their intense history heavy on their shoulders. Their past holds them tight together, but their future is uncertain.





	1. Chapter 1

_This takes place early in the vault timeline, after the doctor saves missy but before she has redeemed herself. They are at a dark place in their relationship, and old wounds are creating new ones._

A gasp escaped Missy’s lips and she flinched from the slap. Her head hung heavily as she leaned back onto the piano, eyes cast upwards at the vault ceiling. She could hear the Doctor’s rapid breathing as he stood inches from her. She closed her eyes and tilted forward, pressing her body softly into his, hearing the rustle of her skirts swish as she moved.

“Play nicely, Doctor,” she whispered, the beginnings of a smirk teasing the corners of her painted lips. She cried out and her eyes flew open as he once again brought his open palm slap across her cheek.

“You are sorely mistaken if you think this is a game, Missy.” His eyes were glinting, both ice and fire, and she withdrew into herself at the sound of his low, angry tone. “Tell me,” he growled. She rolled her eyes, shifting under the weight of his heavy demand.

“I can’t,” She said quietly.

“Tell me!” The guttural words erupted from deep within the Doctor’s throat, and he caught Missy by the wrists, pulling her roughly towards him. “Tell me you’re sorry.” It was a soft threat and a hard plea rolled into one quiet phrase. She avoided his searching gaze, testing his grip on her wrists and grunted when he gripped her even tighter. He held her to him, and she could feel the years of sorrow, of joy and adventure, of friendship and betrayal that they had shared, strung around them like a gilded cage. The threads of their timelines wrapped them tighter and tighter together, painful and exquisite.

No one would ever mean as much to her as the Doctor did. She spat in his face.

 

The Doctor took a step back, loosening his long fingers that were wrapped around Missy’s slender wrists, and wiped his face on the sleeve of his frayed jacket. Before he had time to look up at her again he felt her hands suddenly shove him in the chest, unbalancing him. He stumbled down the steps from the piano, losing his balance as he tipped into the high backed leather chair.

She was on him in an instant, her small, powerful hands clasped around his neck, squeezing down on his windpipe. He struggled to free his arms from under her knees as she straddled him, trying to shake her off as she took control of his breathing. Her face was wild as she bore down on him, one cheek glowing bright red.

He could feel her mind expanding, pushing into him, and he closed off his thoughts defensively as he heaved himself up in the chair. With his hands now free he gripped and pulled her hair sharply and pried her fingers off his neck. She shrieked as she toppled backwards off his lap, crashing off the side table on her way down.

She lay panting on the cold stone flags of the vault floor, her legs up around the Doctor’s waist as he leaned forwards to look down on her off the edge of the leather chair. Tears leaked from her eyes with the pain of his balled-up fist gripping her hair at the roots. She slapped his hand and fumbled with his fingers in her hair while she tried to pull her skirts down, but he was unrelenting.

“Doctor!” She exclaimed indignantly as he slipped down off the chair and pressed her into the hard stone with the full weight of his body. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her lips. She squirmed beneath him.

He reached for something behind her head. After bringing the length of rope to his side, the Doctor roughly tugged Missy onto her stomach, heedless of her protestations. Muttering to her to shut up he could feel his anger seething, threatening to boil over. With one hand still gripping her hair and shoving her face down onto the stone, he brought her arms behind her back and knelt on them to keep her in place. Running his free hand along the rough fibres, he took the rope, let go of her hair and bound her wrists together in one swift, elegant flourish. He then sat back to admire his handiwork.

“Is this a new game, Doctor?” The sight of her grin as she rolled herself onto her side made his hearts flip uncomfortably. He crouched down close to her, close enough to see the moisture on her bottom lip when she bit it.

“For your own sake, Missy. Shut. Up.”

“Oh, you’re no fun, you,” she goaded as she rose up to her knees. “I can teach you, if you like. You might remember it, actually, we used to play it before. But never with these particular game pieces.” She shuffled over on her knees to where he sat, watching her under his heavy, angry eyebrows. Attack eyebrows, she thought. “New pieces, new strategies. Who moves where and how? Oh, you’d like that, Doctor. Let’s play.”

He reached out and her breath caught, but he shoved her gently and sent her falling onto her side once again. She kicked her leg out to jab his shin with her boot, but he caught her ankle and yanked her whole body across the floor, her skirts riding up to her thighs again.

“Shut. UP.” The Doctor’s voice echoed off the walls. Missy grew still, feeling very suddenly like cornered prey. They sat there for a pause, glaring at one another, until the Doctor sighed heavily and passed his long thin fingers across his tired face.

“I’m sorry, Missy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm after the storm descends, but the storm begins to swell again. The anger and hurt Missy and the Doctor feel for each other is swirling around them, engulfing them at times. Nardole squeaks.

He closed his eyes as he heaved himself back up into the chair.

Sensing her vast, undulating consciousness lapping around the edges of his own, he flinched as her old faces swum up to greet him. He was sinking into a sea of memories, terrible memories that had made him lash out at her. The Master’s madness, his murderess madness, his bloodthirsty brilliance, fragments and flashes of memories the Doctor struggled to keep closed off.

The tension in the Doctor’s spine softened as he felt the warm, heavy weight of Missy’s head resting on his thigh. Tentatively he reached out to stroke her cheek, but something stilled his hand and he opened his eyes. She was looking up at him, her eyes bright and sharp. He rested his palm down onto her mess of curls, tangled from their fight.

“Untie me, Doctor,” she said quietly. She had shuffled over on her knees to sit at his feet, the end of the rope he had used to bind her wrists was pooled at her side. He said nothing, but selected a memory to bring into focus, the Master’s broken, undead body crackling with dangerous electrical energy. He met Missy’s mind, sharing the memory and she jerked her head up from his leg.

“Stop it,” she said. Without replying, the Doctor conjured up yet another memory, this time of a small dark-haired child, and pushed it towards her. She turned her face away from him, and he thought he saw her smile.

“How old was she, that first one?” Asked the Doctor. Missy didn’t answer, and the Doctor now pushed a stream of faces into her thoughts.

“What were their names?” He asked. Face after face after face, some smiling and some screaming in agony. Missy was looking at the floor now. “Look at them, all of them, Missy. How many are there? How many deserved to die?” His voice was low. “What did they die for?”

The stream of faces ceased as the Doctor sensed Missy’s mind close off from him, the connection frosting over, opaque. He looked away from her, across the cold vault, and grew still as he meditated on one of the faces.

“How many have you killed, Doctor?” Missy’s words broke like shards of glass. “We’re not as different as you think, as you have always tried to believe.”

“We were not so different once,” he answered softly. The leather was cool beneath his fingers as he shifted in the chair to face her once again. “Look at me, Missy.” He thought he saw a damp glint in her eyes, and seizing upon it he reached out to beckon her closer. Missy hesitated briefly, before sinking her head back down onto his thigh.

 

A booming knock startled them, and the weighty metal mechanism of the door whirled and clicked as it opened for Nardole. He stepped smartly into the room carrying a large silver tray laden down with fruits, but pulled up short when he caught sight of Missy seated between the Doctor’s legs with her hands tied behind her back. Forehead scrunched up, his eyes darted between them and before either of them could talk he bellowed “I don’t want to know!”

“No need for alarm, Nardole,” said the Doctor.

“No, of course not,” Nardole whined sarcastically. “I never know what I’m going to find in here with the pair of you.” He set the tray down on a side table and then sat abruptly on a wooden crate. The Doctor and Missy looked at each other, then the Doctor bent down to reach his hands around her and untie the rope. She pushed herself up from the ground, rubbing her chafed skin where the rope had been wrapped around her wrists, and languidly stepped towards Nardole, who visibly shrank back. Missy plucked a grape from its bunch and popped it into her mouth.

“Play something, Missy,” the Doctor said. She appraised the question before stepping up to the piano and smoothing her skirts, taking her seat and stretching her fingers. She began, filling the sparse room with an aching melody.

“What is that one?” Nardole asked the Doctor and he shrugged. MIssy turned her head slightly, and said “It’s a new piece.”

“A Time Lord of many talents, eh Doctor?” Nardole’s beady eyes squinted at the Doctor, who glanced briefly at him and returned his undivided attention to Missy swaying with the music. The deeper chords she hammered out with her left hand reverberated in his chest, stirring a deep well of longing within him. Her music always conjured up images of a distant past, deep within the heart of the Capitol or across the great red plains of grass.

He jumped slightly when Missy suddenly thumped her fists down heavily onto the keys, striking out discordance. Her heaving shoulders were hunched over the piano and the Doctor watched her warily. Beside him, Nardole cleared his throat as if to speak but the Doctor held up a hand.

Then, like a cornered feral cat, Missy suddenly sprung, seizing the stool she had been sitting on and flinging it across the room with all her might. Nardole yelled and scrambled behind the Doctor’s high leather chair as Missy advanced on them. As still as a heron in the shallows, the Doctor felt himself wind up tight, waiting for her next move. He flinched as she kicked over the side table, sending the silver tray crashing to the floor and the fruit thudding heavily as it rolled. An apple came to rest at the Doctor’s foot and he picked it up thoughtfully. By now Missy was standing in front of him, chest heaving and eyes dark.

“Doctor, you should really use that containment force,” Nardole squeaked behind him. The Doctor turned the shiny red apple in his hands, wiped it on his large shirt cuff, then held it up to the light. Missy backhanded his wrist, knocking the apple from his finger tips. It fell to the floor from the height and the impact sent a crush through its core.

The embattled Time Lords faced off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be a long one, I'll update chapter by chapter as I go. Hope you're enjoying it, I'll be sure to put any warnings before any M chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their words are as painful as their blows.

The only sound in the vault was the furtive shuffling of Nardole behind the chair. Missy’s breathing was constricted, the tight lacing of her corset compressing her rapidly moving rib cage.

The Doctor’s face was inscrutable, an angry mask for him to hide behind. She couldn’t sense his thoughts, he was refusing to open up their connection again. She wanted to kick him, slap him, push him away from her, push him to say something, anything that made any sense out of the darkness they had fallen into.

She wanted to run, but she was contained. She wanted to fall on the Doctor and lose herself in him, but he was a mirror onto herself and there was no escape from him.

“How many years has it been, Doctor?” She asked softly. He tilted his head back slightly, keeping his eyes on her. “How many more?”

“Not enough, and many more,” He answered. Tears of frustration budded at the corners of her eyes, and Missy swallowed them down.

“I can’t live like this,” she whispered.

“This isn’t easy for us either, you know!” Nardole’s head peered around the arm of the leather chair. “Stuck here almost a whole decade, and ninety nine of them to go, it’s not even a unit of time you can satisfactorily count, it goes by so slowly. We’re not even at one yet!” Nardole’s voice rose higher. He shrank back down behind the chair as Missy bared her teeth at him.

“This is not how our people should live,” she said to the Doctor.

“No, but living like this is better than letting you die like that.” He said. She turned her back to him and wrapped her arms tight around herself, remembering the first day she came to in the vault. She had been so mad - and so madly relieved - that the Doctor had botched her execution.

“For you, maybe. For me this is worse than death,” she spat.

“Don’t say that, Missy,” he reached out to her but she pulled away from his touch. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Missy closed her eyes and a tear dripped down her cheek.

“It’s not me you fear losing, Doctor,” she said bitterly. “It’s what I represent. It's them, the Time Lords. You couldn’t bear to think you were the last of your kind. It drove you quite mad! Well, Doctor, we’re both the last of our kind. There will be none after us, mark my words,” her voice was growing louder. “Losing them tormented you, Doctor? They ruined my life before it had ever begun! They chose wilfully to torment me, to make me mad. Mad! They made me MAD.” She spun around and screamed the last word in his face, before sinking to her knees. “And you couldn’t bear to live in a universe without them.”

“You’re wrong.” He knelt down in front of her. “I couldn’t bear to live in a universe without you.” He took her small hand in both of his, delicately fanning out his long fingers as he closed his grip.

 

“What was that instrument in your father’s house?” He murmured after a long pause. Missy let out a reluctant chuckle.

“Oh don’t, Doctor.”

“It didn’t last long, did it? Didn’t he buy it off that wandering merchant? A tubular mandolin. Probably expensive, too,” he was grinning.

“Very expensive, I would imagine.” She said. The Doctor’s fingers were stroking the palm of her hand.

“And I suppose you smashed it, didn’t you?” Nardole was now standing, staring at them bemused. They glanced at each other and laughed.

“I suppose we did,” said the Doctor. “Accidentally, of course.”

“Oh stars above,” exclaimed Nardole, “I can’t watch this. Doctor, come on now and let’s leave her be. She’s dangerous, we need to be more careful.”

“You go, Nardole.”

“No Doctor, I really must insist. You are to watch over her and I am to watch over you. Now come on!” Nardole was standing over them but the Time Lords’ eyes were locked on each other.

“You heard him, Doctor. I’m dangerous.” She smiled. His eyebrow twitched up and he stood, placing his fingers between Nardole’s shoulder blades and guiding him towards the door.

“Some food, Nardole? Perhaps in an hour or two.” He brushed his other hand over the Gallifreyan etchings on the door and the mechanism groaned. Nardole looked apprehensively over his shoulder to where Missy still knelt. She watched him grumble as the Doctor shoved him out the door. He then stalked over to the bookcase at the side of the room.

“Stupid man,” she hissed.

“Now, now,” said the Doctor, thumbing through the pages of a dusty hardback. “He’s right. You are dangerous.”

“I meant you,” she said pointedly. The Doctor exhaled briefly, with a smile.

“Will you read to me?” He asked, striding over to her and holding out the book. She glowered up at him.

“The Master in the Vault, for entertainment purposes only.” she said sardonically. “Play us a tune, Missy! Sing us a song, Missy! Read us a story, Missy! Get down on your knees, Missy -”

“You’d enjoy that too much,” he interrupted.

“Oh, give it a rest,” she batted the book away and heaved herself up. Throwing herself into an armchair she flung her legs up on the wooden crate and gazed into the glowing oil heater. The Doctor dragged the high backed chair opposite her, sat down and opened the book.

“Isn’t that how the mandolin broke?” he asked over the top of the pages. Missy snapped her head up to look at him.

“I’d rather I had broken it over your head,” she said heatedly, but he only smiled. “That won’t work, you know.” She said. He looked up at her.

“What won’t?” He asked, tilting his head.

“You won’t unbalance me that way, Doctor.” She leaned forward “Quite the opposite, that only ever seemed to happen to you.” She said, attempting to shift the scales in her favour.

“Ah,” he said. “Yes I do remember what happened to it.” His small smile was infuriating.

“You fell on it, you clumsy fool. You’ve always been falling, haven’t you?” She said, her tone darkening. “Your hearts are too open, so open in fact that anything caught by them inevitably plummets all the way out again.” She noted smugly that the smile had disappeared. “You fall, then they fall. You catch them - for a time - and then they continue falling. Then they fall even harder.” She ran her fingers across her shoulder, wincing.

“Are you hurt?” He said quietly.

“Yes,” she answered simply.

He rose from his chair and moved to her, touching the back of her shoulder with his own hand. She winced again.

“Please, let me,” he said. He crouched down in front of her and began to unbutton her crisp white blouse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter with the Doctor tending to Missy's injuries.

The soft blue light of dusk settled around them and gently illuminated the pearl buttons at the Doctor’s fingertips. He slipped one through its hole and traced his fingers down to the next one, slowly and carefully following the line of stitching. Four buttons undone and he had reached the waistband of her long skirt, where the rest of her blouse was firmly tucked beneath. He placed his hand on her knee and glanced up at her. She made no move to help him.

“I can manage, Doctor,” she said.

“I know you can,” he said. He didn’t move. Missy let out a small sigh and made to stand up. The Doctor shifted back where he knelt before her. Standing above him she untucked her blouse and undid the final buttons. His eyes flickered as she shrugged the fabric off her left arm, revealing a soft, flimsy undershirt. She sat back in the chair, turning slightly and staring off to the right.

He took a moment to admire her strong profile, her proud cheekbones and her abrupt, confident jaw line. He shuffled forwards in a crouch, placing one hand on her back and another on her left arm. An angry welt swelled from the top of her shoulder down the left side of her back, continuing under her silken vest. The beginnings of a bruise radiated out from the broken skin of the impact site. She shivered under his tentative touch.

“Try not to fall so hard next time, Missy,” he murmured, hoping she would laugh or snap at him. She did neither, but simply stared with a glassy look across the vault. He pressed down onto the broken flesh and she hissed.

“I have some cream in the TARDIS sick bay, I’ll be right back,” he said as he stood up.

“Don’t bother,” she said. He stopped and stared at her, willing her to turn to him.

“Pardon?” He said.

“Don’t bother, Doctor.” She repeated, emotionless.

“Don’t be petulant, Missy,” he said impatiently and turned to leave. As he reached door he looked back at her. She hadn’t moved.

“We have some here, you idiot,” she sighed, and quickly stood, throwing her blouse down at her feet in a crumpled ball. “Funny how keen you are to forget these moments.”

“I don’t forget them,” he said.

“I think you do,” she rounded on him and pressed the pot of cream into his hands.

“Turn around,” he said. She smiled witheringly and spun on her heels.

“Yes, Doctor,” she said. Her vest was covering much of the injury.

“I need to see it, Missy,” he said. She appraised him over her shoulder for a moment before lifting her vest up over her head. The bruise went all the way down to her small waist and the Doctor delicately unscrewed the jar of ointment, scooped some of the thick liquid up into his fingers and stroked it down her shoulder, down her lean back. The warm, honey scent of the ointment filled the space between them and he gently rubbed it over the entire area.

He felt Missy’s muscles relax beneath his touch. When he had finished slathering the bruise he quickly spun the lid closed and cupped the small jar in his hands, one palm over the other as if he were holding an injured bird.

“Let it sit for a while,” he began, but his breath caught in his throat as she turned to face him again. The dusk had deepened, but the pale skin of her naked breasts shone bright in the remaining light. Her fierce eyes unsettled him and he clutched the small jar tighter, unwilling or unable to break the silence. She took a step towards him just as the door opened.

“Oh, come on!” Nardole shrilled exasperatedly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for Almost Smut. 
> 
> "This time when she kissed him he kissed her back, pulling her tight against him. His lips were soft, his tongue yielding. His mouth sought hers when she pulled away slightly, and she smiled as she pressed back down into their kiss."

Missy marched on Nardole as soon as he entered.

“Doctor, restrain her or she’ll escape!” Nardole protested as he fumbled back against the open door. Missy felt the Doctor’s strong hand wrap around her arm, halting her advance.

“I would really like some warning in future if I’m to find you in compromising situations, please.” whined Nardole, collecting himself as he leaned against the door frame. He blinked repeatedly, averting his gaze from Missy’s naked breasts.

“I would really like to squash you like the bug you are,” she hissed at him, tugging against the Doctor’s grip. “We can’t always have our way.”

“Oh, charming,” said Nardole, affronted. “Here I am coming down to ask what you’d fancy for dinner and look at the thanks I get. Same as always, mind you. I ask you…” He continued to mutter to himself.

“Thank you Nardole, we’re fine.” said the Doctor. He pulled Missy back towards him and placed his other hand around her waist to secure her. “If I need you I’ll come find you later.”

“Right…” said Nardole, glaring beadily at them. “The best thing I could do for all our sake’s is get a Do Not Disturb sign for the door. Honestly, I don’t know…”

“Don’t be so excitable, you toad,” said Missy, her short temper flaring up. “I’m injured, and the Doctor was tending to my… needs.” She smirked at the Doctor, who averted his gaze.

“Yes of course, and I’m happily employed,” Nardole replied sarcastically. “I’ll shut the door on my way out, so,” he shouted over his shoulder as he left.

Only when the locking mechanism had swirled firmly into place again did the Doctor relax his grip on her. He dropped his hands from her as if her bare skin was burning him. She turned her head slightly to follow him as he walked around her.

“It’s much better,” he said, raising his hand to where her bruise had been. She reached her arm around to rub the skin, now itching and irritated, feeling the thick layer of sticky ointment. Rubbing it between her fingers, she glanced up to follow the Doctor as he continued to pace slowly around her. He came to a stop before her, the deepening shadows hiding his face.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Missy bared her teeth at him. He didn’t respond.

“You could have me, you know,” she said softly. “You want me. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in the words you leave unsaid.”

“And if I had you, Missy? What then?” he said.

“Not everything is about winning or losing, Doctor. Not everything is either wrong or right.” She took a step towards him. “Sometimes it’s both,” she placed a hand on his chest over his hearts, and he covered it with his own hand.

“We can’t afford to lose this one, Missy,” he said quietly, his face still in shadow. She gripped the lapels of his coat, shaking him slightly.

“You think I don't understand, Doctor? Hm? I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying.” She felt her anger rise, and she took a deep breath to bring it under control. The Doctor stepped back from her and her arms fell by her sides. She watched as he bent down to light the oil lamps around the vault. When the room was lit with a warm glow, he sat down in his high backed chair, propping his forehead up against his closed fist, elbow resting on the arm of the chair.

“Doctor,” she said “Look at me.” He didn’t move. She moved towards his chair, kicked the side of it and threw her skirt up to straddle his lap. Still he remained unmoved, elbow on the side of the chair and forehead pressed against his knuckles. She cupped his face in her hands and could feel the lump rising in her throat.

“Just look at me,” she whispered as she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his. She felt him shrink back from her mouth, sinking into the chair behind him, and his fist unclenched to bring her own hands down from his face. She sat back in his lap, gripping tight to his fingers, a tear rolling down her cheek. Head back, he looked into her eyes but she could detect no emotion from his expression. She brought his hand against her breast, but still he didn’t move. She leaned her head against his shoulder, defeated.

“We can’t always have our way,” he murmured. “Didn’t you just say that?”

“Have me your way, then,” she turned to face his neck and breathe her words against his skin. The hairs on her neck rose at the touch of his hands running up her back. She began to nibble at his neck, grinding down onto his lap as an involuntary gasp escaped from his lips. “Have me any way you like,” she moaned into his ear. He tensed his fingers, digging into her just-healed skin.

This time when she kissed him he kissed her back, pulling her tight against him. His lips were soft, his tongue yielding. His mouth sought hers when she pulled away slightly, and she smiled as she pressed back down into their kiss.

She had him.

Breaking from his lips she sat up in his lap, arching her back and presenting her nipples to him. He kissed them gently, his hands at the small of her back. She moaned as he brought a nipple into his mouth, softly sucking it to a hard point. She looked down at him when he paused.

“Stop grinning and get on with it,” she thrust her breasts into his face. She let out a small shriek as he gripped her legs and stood quickly, wrapping her knees around his slender waist. She hooked her hands around his neck and kissed him deeply as he carried her over to the large metal framed bed at the other end of the vault. Laying her down gently, he straightened up and looked on her. She propped herself up on one arm and stroked her aroused nipples with her other hand.

“Take me, Doctor,” she breathed.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Missy,” he said with a small smile. He placed a kiss on her forehead, his hand wandering down to cup her breast. She opened her eyes to see him already halfway across the vault.

“Doctor!” She leaped from the bed.

“Goodnight, Missy,” he said with a dark glint in his eye as he opened the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The velvet sounds of the bath water slooping against the tub seemed to fill the air as she sank back into the water once again. The Doctor fingered his large cuffs before rolling them up neatly up his arms. He now stood above the bath looking down on her, sliding his jeweled ring around his finger. Missy spread her legs, hooking one knee over the edge of the tub.

The vault door reverberated like a gong, four times with four thumps of the Doctor’s closed fist.

“I brought you a present,” he called to her as he ran his fingertips along the circular, spiralled etchings to open the door. It dragged metallically across the stone flags, sliding away to reveal the vault bathed in beams of daylight.

No sign of her.

The Doctor took one step across the threshold, the sounds of the door scraping closed behind him. His brow furrowed and his eyes darted around the room. He carefully placed the smooth black case he was carrying down onto the ground beside his feet, still searching the shadows between the columns of light.

“Don’t you want to see what it is?” He asked the silent room.

Spinning around to make sure she wasn’t lurking behind him, he advanced into the dusty sun beams. He sensed a change in the air as he moved towards the end of the vault, could taste the increased humidity before he spotted the tendrils of steam rising up from behind a thin draping of fabric that was slung across two thick pillars.

Pulling the fabric aside his eyes fell upon Missy, deeply submerged in a large claw footed bath tub. She lay peacefully at the bottom, eyes shut and long dark hair billowing out around her pale naked body. Hearts pounding, he hesitantly approached the bath, quelling the rising panic in his throat. He leaned over the tub, arm outstretched.

A ripple pulsed outwards from the tip of his finger as it touched the water’s surface, and he jumped back as Missy’s eyes flew open. Water sloshed over the lip of the tub and there she sat, upright and dripping wet, pale blue eyes impaling him where he stood.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said and settled back down into the water, draping her thin arms over the sides of the tub. Steadying his breath, the Doctor relaxed.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, pulling over a stool, sitting down and clasping his hands between his legs.

“I’m not the one who’s startled,” she raised one eyebrow at him. Playfully he flicked the surface of the water, splashing it at her face. She submerged herself once again before rising out of the water closer to him, folding her arms over one side of the tub and resting her chin down on it. She blinked dolefully at him.

“You’re dripping water all over the floor,” he pointed out as he moved his leg away from the path of the stream. She ignored this.

“What news?” She said, cocking her head to one side. The Doctor sighed, shrugging.

“Well, I brought you something,” he said, waving his hands about.

“Oh yeah?”

“I think you’ll like it,” he said.

“I doubt I will,” she said.

Despite himself, he felt a grin twitch his mouth. He stood to hide it and removed his coat, placing it delicately on the hook where her own jacket hung. The velvet sounds of the bath water slooping against the tub seemed to fill the air as she sank back into the bath once again. The Doctor fingered his large cuffs before rolling them up neatly up his arms. He now stood above the bath looking down on her, sliding his jeweled ring around his finger.

Missy spread her legs, hooking one knee over the edge of the bath tub.

“It had better be a big present, Doctor,” she said. “I prefer bigger presents.”

The Doctor smiled. “You are wicked,” he mused, still spinning the ring.

“Maybe,” she said. “Is it big?”

“Your gift? I suppose not,” he said.

“Pity,” she said, and slid her legs closed.

The Doctor pulled his stool over to the side of the bath and sat down on it again. He placed his hands on the bath’s edge.

“So ungrateful, Missy, you don't know what it is yet,” he said and he dipped his long fingers into the water.

“When I think of all the gifts I’ve tried to give you and all the times you’ve been ungrateful, Doctor,” she laughed. The Doctor’s mood darkened, and he fixed Missy with a stern look.

“What,” she said, “We can’t joke about things now?” She lunged towards him. “Think of all the times I could have given you the biggest gift of all. I wanted to give you the universe.”

“And we've reached the darkest heart of your mistakes. It isn’t yours to give.” His voice was low.

“It could be yours, though,” she persisted, enunciating her words sleekly. Long tendrils of hair dripped down her shoulders. She leant towards him, mouth parting, eyes expectant. He reached out to cup her head in his hand, then gathered a length of her wet hair and closed his fist around it. He heard her gasp as he pulled her close to his face.

“Listen carefully,” he growled, “Because soon I will stop repeating myself. The stars, the planets, and the lives lived out there amongst them are not ours for the taking. And I will stop anyone who tries to take them for themselves. Anyone at all, I will stand in their way. I am done standing in your way, Missy-"

"Don't stand in my way then," she interrupted quickly.

"...if ever I find myself standing between you and them again... Missy, I will end it. You’ve been given too many second chances. This is your last. This is our last chance.” His words silenced her.

He could see her breasts rising and falling at a faster rate than before. He let go of her hair, trailing his hand down the outline of her slender neck, across her collarbone. Her eyes fluttered closed and she arched her back.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” she breathed. He froze, brow knitting together and he stood up to retreat from her.

“No. I need to know if I’m getting through, Missy. If I’ll ever get through to you.” He bowed his head and shook it slightly as he stepped back out under the curtain and into the vault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your comments so far, glad you're enjoying this work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dancing around each other for so long in the vault, the Doctor lets Missy have her way with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smuttity smut

MIssy felt her body temperature drop comfortably as she stood dripping water onto the stone flags. Steam rose from her skin and her long hair hung heavily draped over one shoulder. She drew in a breath, steadying herself then pulled the thin curtain aside and ducked under it. The Doctor was seated in the high backed armchair, cradling a mandolin in his hands. Water pooled around her feet and she listened to him gently plucking out the melody she had played for him the other day. He glanced up at her, briefly, before lowering his eyes back down to the vibrating strings of the instrument.

“It's not tubular,” she spoke after a moment.

“No,” he said, not looking up “But it is a mandolin.”

“It sounds better on the piano,” she said. He didn’t reply, but his long elegant fingers continued to dance as they strummed. Only when he finished did he set the instrument down and looked across to her.

“Play it, then,” he said. Missy pressed her lips together into a thin line, then stepped up to the stool. Caressing the smooth keys, she sounded out a loud chord, holding the notes, letting them ring through the air. When they had softened to nothing, she released the keys and turned to him.

“No,” she said simply. They gazed at each other, and the silence was familiar although it wasn’t comfortable.

“I had a friend when I was younger,” she eventually breathed. “We were the same…”

“No,” said the Doctor, echoing her tone moments before.

“We were the same,” Missy pressed on “Until we weren’t.”

The Doctor strummed the same chord she had just played. “The same?” he said.

Missy twisted around in the stool and spread her thighs, exposing herself to him. She leant back onto the keys, watching as the Doctor’s eyes wander the long way down her body.

“The exact same,” she said, reaching between her legs and pulling the soft petals of her sex apart for him. He let out a long sigh and flicked his eyes up to her face again. Missy smirked naughtily and sank her finger inside herself, moaning loudly. The Doctor sat back in his chair. She pulled one leg up onto the piano stool, spreading herself even wider.

“Would you like a taste, Doctor?” she brought her moist fingers up to her lips, sucking on them. “It’s been such a long time since…”

Taking the mandolin up again the Doctor plucked it absent-mindedly, watching her carefully. She stood up and strode across to his chair, placed one knee up on the leather arm and leaned in to moan in his ear. He continued to play the aching melody.

“I know how you like to hear me,” she whispered to him.

“I want to hear something else,” he said, unfazed. “You know that.”

Missy’s skin had mostly dried from the bathwater, but her hair was still heavy with moisture. She playfully flipped it across his face, but all he did was close his eyes and continue to strum the mandolin. Missy straddled him and cupped his face in her hands. She stared at him, willing him to make eye contact, but he leaned his head back and still plucked out the tune.

Pressing her lips to his, Missy uttered a string of syllables that seemed to meld together and mould themselves to the music. The Gallifreyan rolled gently off her tongue, and when she had finished speaking the melody had ceased. She reached for the buckle on the Doctor’s belt, glinting in the light. It ticked metallically, then with a smooth rasp she pulled the leather through. With a tug and a pop she had opened the button on his trousers and slid the zip down. A hard swelling underneath the soft burgundy fabric of his pants was the only sign he gave her, and his eyes fluttered as she rubbed her hand along the bulge. Through the folds of his pants she reached and grasped him, he was hot and hard in her palm.

Pulling him free, she moaned appreciatively at the sight. His cock was thick, large and erect, and throbbed as she held and stroked him. The Doctor didn’t move, but remained with the mandolin held between his hands. Missy shifted, positioning herself just above him. She pressed down, feeling the tip of his cock at her slick entrance. His head fell back against the chair as she slid down onto him, and she moaned in relief as he stretched her open. Slowly, tortuously, she fucked him where he sat, relishing in the sensations of him inside her. He didn’t reach out to her, didn’t touch her naked skin nor grab handfuls of flesh or hair, but simply sat with his eyes half closed as she slid up and down his cock.

Missy’s breath was coming in short gasps when she arched her back to change the angle of penetration. In response, the Doctor’s hips bucked up towards her and he raised his hands above his head. The mandolin dangled loosely in his fingers down the back of the chair and he bit the inside of his bottom lip. Pleasure was building in Missy’s core, her skin was aflame and a voice in her head screamed “Faster, harder,” but she shuddered as she maintained her controlled and steady pace, allowing the tension to build.

The Doctor’s jaw clenched and his breathing grew ragged, but still he didn’t move. As Missy’s own climax threatened to engulf her she placed her hands on his shoulders for support and tilted forward, her swollen clit now brushing off the fabric of the Doctor’s waistcoat. The mandolin clattered noisily to the floor and she felt him spill inside her. The back of his hands covered his eyes as he came, still biting down on his lip. The sight of him struggling to contain himself drove Missy over the edge and she began to worry her hand against her clit, fucking him faster. Her squeals came in high pitched bursts as she followed him.

When they had rounded the peak of their pleasure and their panting had subsided he opened his eyes and looked deep into hers. With him still inside her she leaned in once again to kiss him.

“Yet another mandolin broken,” he smiled as he kissed her back.


End file.
